Fish Food

He swims consistently
The Piscean without a real sense of direction
Round and round he goes.
Not knowing what he wants
Only knows that he’s searching
And then once in a while
Round pellets rain from above
And he leaves his circular orbit
Rises up to investigate
And then he eats.
Greedily after his constant tail chase
Of searching
And then he returns to that very same lap
Because he knows no other way.